Toss Your Caber

Posted on April 8, 2014 by silaschampion

Last weekend I went to my first Tartan Day celebration. Tartan Day is an annual celebration of Scottish heritage. Festivals are held all over the United States in parks and other public spaces. There are a lot of men in kilts and women in plaid. I’ve always said that plaid is my favorite color so it is my kind of place.

IMG_1391The celebration included Highland Games in which big, burly men and women throw heavy objects, including but not limited to, a large pole called a Caber. I would think a chiropractor could make a killing at any Highland Games. Bagpipers were everywhere and several Scottish heritage organizations had displays. You could even buy haggis from a food truck.

Though Scottish heritage was the focus, the festival included almost anything remotely Celtic. There were Irish dancers and a hurling match. If you want to know about hurling click on this link. A medieval history group lent a Renaissance Fair aspect to the festivities as they whacked each other with wooden swords. The Civil War reenactors brought some American history to the event. There was even a British Sports Car show. Personally, I would not have wanted my sports car that close to the hurling pitch but I guess they all have insurance.

I always enjoy festivals like this because you get to interact with people who are passionate about their hobbies. They have found something they love to do and are dedicated to it. They might have an ordinary job during the week but for a short time they can be a highlander, or a medieval knight, or whatever they want. When people are that passionate they are always happy to share what they know with others. It is a great way to keep history alive. When you see someone using ancient techniques to create jewelry or clothing, you get a whole new perspective on how our ancestors lived. Watching a line of “civil war soldiers” march across a parking lot gives you a tiny glimpse into the lives of people who lived long ago. It’s a great way to learn.

What are you passionate about? So much of our lives are passive now. We watch television, we surf the Internet, we sit in the stands. Find something you love an do it. Now you may not make a living at it. The old saying, “find something you love and do it on nights and weekends for the rest of your life,” is true. Some people can turn their passion into a living but many don’t. That’s okay though, because it brings joy and creativity into your life. It makes you a better person. So toss your caber, strap on your sword, sew a tapestry, do something your passionate about.

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Irish Journeys

Posted on March 15, 2014 by silaschampion

Since St. Patrick’s Day is approaching, I thought I would share a few thoughts about my sojourns through the Emerald Isle. I first went to Ireland twenty years ago. I was a young man then, carefree and ready to see the world.  Ireland and the Irish people were warm and welcoming. They didn’t mind sharing their island with a foolish, young American. It was a great experience.

I spent most of my time in Northern Ireland which is politically a part of the United Kingdom. I did travel down to Dublin, but unfortunately I never made it to the western side of the Island. I hope to remedy that soon. In honor of old St. Patrick I thought I would share three of my favorite places. Two of them are in N. Ireland and one from Dublin. Unfortunately, my pictures don’t do it justice.

Carrickfergus

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Carrickfergus is a small town not far from Belfast. It has a wonderful old castle and other historical sights. There’s even a song about it. It’s a great place to stop and journey back in time.

 

 

The Antrim Coast Road

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When you drive north out of Carrickfergus you can take the Antrim Coast Road. It’s a beautiful stretch of highway that winds along the coast. There are stunning views and tiny villages all along the way. At the other end of the highway you can visit Giant’s Causeway, an impressive group of hexagonal rock formations. Here’s the website.

Dublin

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It’s hard to say enough good things about Dublin. It is a modern, cosmopolitan city steeped in grand history. There are ancient cathedrals, incredible museums, and Trinity College, which houses the Book of Kells. It’s not everyday you can see a book from the 9th Century.

I would encourage everyone to visit Ireland. Pack an umbrella though, you’ll need it.

 

 

 

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone.

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Not Quite Olympian

Posted on February 19, 2014 by silaschampion

I like the Winter Olympics.  Mostly because they have hockey but also because they have lots of weird sports you never even think about except during the winter olympics. You can watch people yell at each other while they slide rocks across the ice. You can watch people ski around with rifles until they all collapse from exhaustion. People use terms like swizzle with a straight face, and I think we can all agree that Scandinavians have cool names.

Two of the most impressive events at the Olympics are luge and skeleton. These people sled down a curvy sheet of ice at seventy or eighty miles an hour. The first winter olympics I really remember are the 1988 games in Calgary. I don’t think they had skeleton then but they did have luge, and I remember thinking it was awesome.

That experience motivated me. The next time it snowed I dug out the old sled and found a steep hill in the pasture. I was ready to make a run for the gold. There were several obstacles standing in my path to Olympic glory. First, the sled was made for a smaller child. I was fourteen at the time and I stuck far out over either end. Second, the snow was only a few inches deep. This meant that there were a few bare spots on my impromptu luge track.

By far though, the biggest obstacle or rather, obstacles, were the  cow patties that dotted the hillside. For those of you from the city, cow patties are what cows leave behind when they have finished digesting. As I said, these patties littered the hillside and the thin layer of snow only covered a few. On the bright side it was cold so most of them were frozen. Most, but not all as it turns out.

IMG_1322I was determined however, and did not let that deter my olympic dreams. I can’t really remember how many runs down the hill I made. I only remember the last one. The hill was steep and I had a good rate of speed. I was going headfirst down the hill throwing caution to the wind. About halfway down the sled caught a frozen cow patty and came to an abrupt stop. Several of Newton’s laws of motion worked against me at that moment. I continued down the hill sans sled, as the French might say.

This wild journey did not last long and I made, what pilots call a hard landing, in a cow patty that had yet to freeze. Now I have gotten hay in my mouth and trust me, it tastes better before it goes through the cow. After a lot of spitting and shouting I pulled my sled home utterly defeated. From that moment on I decided to leave olympic dreams to others. I now enjoy the olympics from my couch. Here’s to all those dedicated athletes. May their dreams come true.

 

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On Winter

Posted on January 9, 2014 by silaschampion

Right now much of America is deep in the grip of winter. Winter starts out with fluffy snow and a warm thoughts of Christmas. Bright lights decorate houses and green trees fill our living rooms. Yummy treats are available at every party.  Even the first snow is exciting and romantic.IMG_1337

Then January comes and the bitter cold comes with it. Snow becomes a hassle and the days are dark and dreary. The Christmas lights are put away. The gyms fill up as people regret all the tasty treats of the Christmas season. By February the slush and cold of winter seems almost unbearable.

But then it happens, the first warm day arrives. Snow melts and the sun feels warm again. People run outside like prisoners escaping from jail. There will be more cold days but spring is on the way.

Life’s endeavors are similar. They often start with excitement but as they continue they enter a long hard winter of labor. Sometimes it seems like they will never come to fruition. Like winter though, it does come to an end. Spring arrives and the flowers return. Someday those labors will pay off and our endeavors will soar. This is the hope we must cling to as we work.  Now if you’ll excuse me I need some hot chocolate.

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Sprinting Through November

Posted on December 4, 2013 by silaschampion

This blog has been quiet since the end of October and I thought I owed everyone an explanation. Every November, writers around the world participate in National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo for short. The premise is simple, write a novel of at least 50,000 words in a month. If you want to know more about it, click on the the link here.

I participated this year. I wanted to try something different. All of my other manuscripts took at least a year to write and I wanted to see if I was up to the challenge. I’m happy to report that I finished my novel at 11:30pm on November 30th. Now looking back on it I thought I would share two of my observations about writing this way.

Just Keep Writing

Writing a book in a month requires you to turn off your inner editor. You just have to keep going. Usually in the writing process I might write, then delete, and write a sentence several times. In fact, I’ve done it at least twice on this paragraph alone. When trying to finish a novel in the month you don’t have time for that. You just keep writing. The idea behind NaNoWriMo is that you can’t revise a blank page. Put the story on paper and then fix it later. The first draft is just putting all the legos out on the floor. Editing is going back and making something out of them.  I found this approach to writing very liberating. I could just keep forging ahead. I’m going to wait a least a month before trying to edit this novel. Then we’ll see if its any good. At least the legos are on the floor now.

arts,cartoons,communications,creativity,George,men,metaphors,occupations,persons,typewriters,writers,writer's block,writings

Who Are You Again?

Writing a novel in a month means immersing yourself in the fantasy world that you’ve created. No matter what is going on  you are thinking about your story. Now I had a rough outline before I started but fleshing that outline took a lot of thought. Of course real life intrudes into the fantasy world and you find yourself saying things like, “what? what did you say?” a lot. There may or may not have been a call from school reminding me that school dismissed early and I should come get my kid. Okay, so there was. Writing a novel becomes an all-encompassing endeavor.

Overall though, I liked this approach to writing. I learned that it is possible to write a novel in a month. Now when I go back and revise this book, I may decide it wasn’t a good idea.  I’m already thinking about doing this again. Not right now though, I need a break and maybe some sugar cookies.

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Texas Slim and the Halloween Prank

Posted on October 31, 2013 by silaschampion

IMG_0768One Halloween day Texas Slim and Pecos Pete lounged around the bunkhouse fire. A chilly wind blew tumbleweeds past the door. The cows were all fed and the two cowboys had nothing else they wanted to do that day. That is, nothing to do until Texas Slim had an idea.

“Hey Pecos, you reckon the kids are still in school.” He looked at his big toe poking through a hole in his sock.

“I reckon so.” Pecos Pete chewed on a straw. “Why?”

Texas Slim grinned. “It being Halloween and all I think we ought to go scare them a mite.” Pecos Pete sat up in his bunk.

“How do you mean scare them?”

“I reckon we just sneak up to the school house and pop in sudden like. You know all dressed up like ghosts or such like.”

“That does sound like a good time.” Pecos Pete grinned now. “But it’s kind of mean scarin’ kids ain’t it?”

“Oh we’ll take some treats or something to make up for it.” Texas Slim pulled on his boots.

“Alright, We’ll have to stop at the general store.” The two cowboys saddled up and galloped into town. They loaded their blankets. On the way Texas Slim had another idea.

“I should dress up as the headless horseman. When you spook ‘em out of the school house, I’ll come riding up and send ‘em runnin’.” He laughed at his own cleverness.

“How are you going to be headless?”

“Like this.” Texas Slim pulled his jacket up to the top of his head and buttoned it.

“You better take your hat off. It just looks confusing that way.”

“I was planning on it.”  They were getting close to town now. “You just get them scared out.”

“You reckon the teacher will be mad at us?” Pecos Pete scratched his scruffy chin.

“We’ll give her some candy too. She’ll be fine.” They rode to the grocery store and bought two big bags of candy. Texas Slim stuffed them in his saddlebags. Pecos Pete snuck up to the schoolhouse while Texas Slim worked on his headless horseman outfit. Pecos took his rope. He planned to attach it to the roof of the schoolhouse and swing in front of the windows. It would look like he was floating in the air this way. He chuckled to himself as he neared the schoolhouse.

As our cowboys prepared their plan, Farmer Bob led his prize cow down the middle of the road. The cow had arrived just this morning on the train all the way from Wisconsin. She was no wild longhorn, but a genuine, prize-winning, milk cow. Calm and gentle, Farmer Bob could lead her around like a horse. He owned the local dairy and he was excited to be expanding his herd. Everything was going just fine until the Headless Horseman came prancing down the road.

Now this cow was not used to Texas. She was not used to wide open prairies, tumbleweeds, and rattlers. She for sure wasn’t used cowboys dressed up like the headless horsemen. Texas Slim’s horse was nervous and sashayed sideways just as they met Farmer Bob in the road.

“What in tarnation?” That was all Farmer Bob could say before his prizewinning milk cow bellowed and jerked the rope from his hand. She bolted straight toward the schoolhouse. Now Texas Slim’ horse was a good cow horse and it was used to chasing running cattle. It followed the cow right through the yard.

“Whoa! Whoa!” shouted Texas Slim. He discovered one giant problem with his costume. His coat shifted and he couldn’t see a thing. That cow took one look at the open door of the schoolhouse. It looked like a safe and comfortable barn. She barreled into the middle of math class like a freight train leaving Wisconsin. Children screamed and scrambled out of the way. The teacher jumped up on her desk. Texas Slim’s horse followed that cow right into the schoolhouse. Unfortunately, the door was not tall enough for a horse and rider, even a headless one. Texas slim slammed into the top of the doorframe and fell right off his horse.

“Out, out you filthy beast.” The teacher waved an umbrella at the poor, terrified cow. The cow decided that this barn full of screaming children and menacing teachers was not place for her. She jumped through the window where Pecos Pete stood watching the mayhem. He barely had time to jump and grab the cow by the horns. His blanket, that he’d been holding, covered the cow’s eyes. The blinded cow ran around the yard three times with Pecos Pete perched on his head.

Texas Slim’s horse bucked and kicked around the room. Candy flew everywhere like a sweet and tasty snowstorm. Children braved the flashing hooves to grab the treats. Texas Slim remained unconscious on the floor. The teacher waved her umbrella again. The horse jumped over Texas Slim and ran out the door. Pecos Pete finally got the cow calmed down. He returned the frightened critter to Farmer Bob.

“Here you are. I reckon she got a might spooked.”

“What in tarnation are you fellas doing?” Farmer Bob looked at his huffing cow.

“Well it was just going to be a Halloween prank for the children.” Pecos Pete was doing some huffing himself.

“Well you sure scared the cow.” Farmer Bob took his frightened beast and headed down the road.

Texas Slim woke up sputtering and shouting when the teacher threw a bucket of cold water on his face. She shook her umbrella at him.

“What do you mean chasing a cow into my classroom?” She yelled. The children all giggled. It took Texas Slim a while to respond.

“We just uh we just, uh. Where’s my horse?”

“He’s outside. You get outside too, you ruffian. How dare you interrupt my class?” She shook her umbrella again. Texas Slim staggered out the door. Pecos Pete brought him his horse. All the kids followed him into the yard. Texas Slim finally managed to get into the saddle.

“Happy Halloween, kids,” Pecos Pete called as they rode from the yard. All the kids shouted and cheered. The teacher just put her hands on her hips.

“My head hurts.” Texas Slim rubbed his aching forehead.

“You took quite a licking there partner,” Pecos Pete said,” but I reckon we gave those kids a Halloween they’ll never forget.”

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Three Reasons Why Fall is Awesome

Posted on October 29, 2013 by silaschampion

We are in the heart of autumn. The weather is cooler and the days are shorter. I love the the fall. I think there are three reasons why the fall is great.

Foliage

IMG_0794The changing leaves never cease to amaze. Something that is green for months suddenly explodes in vibrant reds, yellows, and orange. The beauty of the leaves seems almost impossible at times. Like many great and beautiful things their splendor does not last. It is a bit like life. It does not last long, but while it’s here, it’s magnificent.

Festivals

IMG_0773The fall is replete with festivals. Apple festivals, pumpkin festivals, harvest festivals. Communities gather in the cool evenings and enjoy the bounty of the land. It is a time for people to be together. Even Halloween is a festival. Neighbors walk from door to door and talk with one another. Children put away their electronic devices and run down the sidewalk. We remember what it’s like to be a community.

Frigid

The morning brings frost. Cool nights require thick clothing. A fire feels good at night. The heat and humidity of the summer is past.  Of course by spring we’ve had enough of the cold. We look forward to the long, hot summer days. For a brief moment in the fall though, it is wonderful. Like the leaves, it is transitory display of nature’s glory.

What do you like about fall?

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Texas Slim and the Apple Pie Caper

Posted on October 8, 2013 by silaschampion

Periodically I make up stories to tell my children at bedtime. Here’s one I wrote down the next morning. It’s a fun story but I must warn you, the characters use bad grammar.

Texas Slim and the Apple Pie Caper

By Silas Champion

cowboy1One morning, Texas Slim was out riding the range. Oh, you’ve never heard of Texas Slim? Well, Texas Slim is the toughest cowboy this side of the Rio Grande. He can ride any horse, rope any cow, and is not even afraid of a grizzly bear. He is quick with a gun, tough with his fists, and fond of tall tales.

As I said, one morning Texas Slim was out riding the range, looking for cows. It was fall, and a cool wind blew across the prairie. Texas Slim heard someone riding up behind him. He turned to see his best friend, Pecos Pete.

“Kind of chilly today, ain’t it?” Pecos Pete said.

“Yep, fall is coming on.” They rode on a bit in silence.

“I sure miss apple pie in the fall.” Pecos Pete scratched his chin. “My ma used to make apple pies all the time when I was a kid.”

“Well, there ain’t any apples out on the prairie.” Texas Slim shifted in his saddle.

“I know. I ain’t had apple pie in years.”

They rode on for hours and hours. At last, they came to the top of a steep hill. At the bottom of the hill grew an apple orchard. Red apples filled the trees.

“Well, lookie there,” Texas Slim said. “You may get your pie after all.” They rode down to the orchard. Pecos Pete picked an apple and bit into it. “These are good.”

“Hey, get away from my apples!” An old man came through the trees, waving a shotgun.

“Whoa, easy there, old-timer,” Pecos Pete said. “We just need some apples. We’ll pay ya!”

“No, you won’t neither. These apples ain’t for sale.” He waved his shotgun.

“Not even a few?” Texas Slim eyed the shotgun. “You got more apples than a hundred men could eat.”

“It ain’t none of your business how many apples I got. You get on back and tell Big Ed that he ain’t gonna run me out of here.” He stepped close to Texas Slim’s horse.

“We don’t know Big Ed, mister,” Pecos Pete said.

“Ha, likely story.” He slipped on a fallen apple and fired the shotgun straight up into the sky. The horses bucked and snorted, but as I told you before, Texas Slim and Pecos Pete were good cowboys. They got those horses settled down in no time.

“Gimme that before you hurt yourself.” Texas Slim jumped off his horse and grabbed the shotgun.

“You fellers can’t buffalo me!” the old man shouted. He did not get up.

“We ain’t trying to buffalo nobody. We just want some apples,” Texas Slim said. “We don’t know no Big Ed.”

“No you can’t buy my bed,” the old man shouted. “Who are you fellas, anyway?”

“Uh, I’m Texas Slim.”

The old man dug a finger in his ear. “You want to swim? What?”

Texas Slim shouted, “No, I’m Texas Slim!”

“Oh, hi there, Jim. That shotgun made me deaf for a minute. What you want?”

“We just want some apples. My friend is hankering for a pie.” Texas Slim pointed at Pecos Pete.

“He don’t need more pie. Anyway, I don’t sell my apples. Not to Big Ed or nobody.”

“What do you with them, then?” Pecos Pete got off his horse.

“I give ‘em away, of course.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Pecos Pete said. “Can we have some?”

“No you can’t have them.” The old man stood up. “I don’t just give ‘em to anybody. They are for the orphans.”

“Orphans?” Texas Slim asked.

“Yes, here they come now.” He pointed to a group of children approaching the orchard. They clambered into the trees and put apples in small bags. A pretty young woman walked up to the three men.

“Hello Cletus.” She eyed the two cowboys. “Who are your friends?”

“They ain’t my friends. This is Jim and Sweet.”

“I’m Texas Slim and this is Pecos Pete.” Texas Slim took off his hat.

“You aren’t Big Ed’s men?”

“Who is this Big Ed? Pecos Pete said. “He’s been yammering about him since we got here.”

“He owns the biggest ranch around here, but he always wants more. He wants to run Cletus out of here.”

“Well, that ain’t neighborly.”

“Cletus owes a lot of money to the bank. Big Ed owns the bank too. If Cletus can’t pay, then he loses his farm.

“He’s got no way to pay?” Pecos Pete pointed at the trees. “Why don’t he just sell these apples?”

“He can, but I don’t think it be enough.” She pointed to the orphans. “He usually gives a lot to us and we sell them. I’m Amy, by the way.” The sound of horses interrupted them. A dusty group of riders slid to stop. The lead rider had a silver star on his vest. He looked carefully at Texas Slim.

“Who are you boys?” Texas Slim explained who they were.

“What are you doing all the way out here, Sheriff?” Cletus asked.

“We are after Deadeye Dave. He robbed the bank in town.”

“He ain’t been by here. Jim and Sweet are the only ones I saw today.” Texas Slim shook his head.

“If you see him there’s a reward, 5,000 dollars.”

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled,” Amy said. The sheriff and his men galloped away. Cletus rubbed his head.

“If I had that money I could pay off the bank. Maybe I should go after him.” He reached for his shotgun.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Amy grabbed his arm. “Deadeye Dave is the most dangerous criminal in the state.” Texas Slim moved the shotgun away from the old man. He looked over at Pecos Pete. Pete nodded.

“Well we can round him up, I reckon.” Texas Slim handed the shotgun to Amy.

“What?” Her eyes got big.

“We will round him up and Cletus here can pay off the bank.”

“Why would you do that?” Cletus asked. “It will take all the reward money to pay off the bank. You won’t have nothing left.”

“You just make sure we have some apple pie when we get back,” Pecos Pete climbed on his horse. The two cowboys set out after the outlaw. It turned out that Deadeye Dave was as hard to catch, as he was dangerous. They chased him over mountains, and across the prairies. They only stopped when their horses got too tired. Cowboys don’t give up when things get hard, though, and Texas Slim had a plan.

“By golly, Pecos, if we can’t catch him we’ll get him to come to us.” They rode back to town. After hitching their horses, they sat on a bench in front of the local newspaper.

“Did you hear the news about the orphanage?” Texas Slim spoke in a loud voice.

“No I did not,” Pecos Pete almost shouted.

“They got a big donation of cash. Twenty thousand dollars.”

“Well, I’ll be. How did they get that?”

“I don’t know, but a rich man is bringing it in on the train in two days. He’s going to take it to the orphanage himself.” The two cowboys walked away.

“I hope your plan works,” Pecos Pete whispered.

“Oh, it will work. You’ll see.”

The evening newspaper carried the story of the mysterious donation on the front page. Everyone in town got excited. Texas Slim went to the orphanage. It smelled like apple pie.

gallopingcowboyThe next day the train pulled into the station at 11:30. A big man in an expensive suit got off the train. He twirled his cane. Everyone crowded around him.

“Good people, good people, I must get to the orphanage. He jumped on a waiting horse and galloped away.

“He sure can ride for a city man,” commented a bystander. The mysterious man galloped to the orphanage with his black suit coat flapping in the wind. As he dismounted just outside the door a man in a mask stepped from the bushes.

“I’ll take that money mister.” Two more outlaws stepped up beside him.

“No I don’t reckon you will.” Texas Slim appeared behind the outlaws. The outlaws started shooting and ran in all directions. The rider dove into the front door. Texas Slim ducked behind some bushes. He sprinted around behind one outlaw and whacked him on the head. The second one threw his hands up in the air.

The leader of the outlaws followed the rider through the door. “I’ve got you now.”

“No you don’t.” The rider swung his fist. The fighting men crashed into a table. Apple pies flew everywhere. They rolled over several times. Amy grabbed a rolling pin and smacked the outlaw on the head.

“Thanks for the help,” the rider said.

“Pecos Pete? What are you doing? I almost hit you on the head too.”

Pecos Pete licked some apple pie off his fingers. “It was Texas Slim’s idea. I put on this fancy city suit and pretended to bring the money here. We knew the outlaw would show up.”

“You ruined all the pie. Sorry.”

“I can probably salvage some of it.” He licked his finger again. “Why did you make so many?”

“I didn’t know how to make an apple pie. So I practiced.”

“Tastes like you got it right.” Pecos Pete grinned. “Anyway you know how to use a rolling pin.

“Did you get him?” Texas Slim stood in the doorway.

“Yep, I did get a little help from Amy though.” When the sheriff arrived, they had the three outlaws hog-tied.

“You boys caught Deadeye Dave. Good work.”

“Well Amy helped a bit.” Texas Slim said. Pecos Pete just ate more pie. They went to town and collected the reward. Cletus paid Big Ed. Texas Slim and Pecos Pete saddled their horses.

“Thanks for your help boys,” Cletus said.

“No problem.”

“Come back and visit sometime.” Amy handed Pecos Pete another pie.

“You can count on it.” They rode off under the morning sun.

“Well that worked out well.” Texas Slim adjusted his hat.

“My stomach hurts.” Pecos Pete shifted in the saddle.

“You ate too much pie.

“Well it was good pie. Not as good as mama’s, but good.” Pecos Pete ate another bite.

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The County Fair

Posted on September 5, 2013 by silaschampion

Here’s short story I wrote after attending the county fair in my hometown.

The County Fair

By

Silas Champion

Two old men watched the sun sink into a thin bed of feathery clouds. The shorter one ran his fingers through his wispy hair. The wrinkles on his tan forehead showed thirty years of farming.

From The Ridge“Those clouds ain’t going to cut it. There will be no rain tonight.” He spat into the dust of the fairground. The larger man tucked the thumbs of his huge hands behind the straps of his overalls.

“No, I reckon not.” He nodded toward a man leading a stubborn milk cow. “John said he got almost half an inch the other day.” The short man dropped his hat back on his head.

“I guess we got two-tenths the Sunday last. My corn sure needs some more.” He leaned against the post of a sign that read “Davis County Fair, 1863.” A group of barefoot children chased a chicken between the two men.

“You kids watch where you’re going!” the large one said. The children paid him no mind.

“Kids these days.” The short one turned to his larger companion. “Did you see that big Hereford bull that Jackson brought here? They say he bought it in New England.”

The big man shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Let’s go have a look.” They walked past two snake-oil salesmen who stood before a gaudy wagon.

“Hard to believe he could ship it all the way here with the war on.” The big man watched a pretty woman extol the health virtues of various liquids in several bottles. “I figured the trains would be busy.”

“That’s just it. He bought it from a man who lost his sons at Fredricksburg. He got a good deal.” A cloud of worry came into the bigger man’s eyes. The short one took off his hat. “You still haven’t heard from Caleb?” Herubbed his head again.

The big man sighed. “Not a thing. In his last letter he was in Pennsylvania, but that was three months ago.”

The shorter man thought of his own two sons. “You think he was at Gettysburg?”

The big man shrugged. “No way to know.”

“I can’t believe they stopped Lee. I didn’t think they would ever do it.” The big man said nothing. He picked up a bottle of amber liquid. It smelled like vinegar.

“Those idiots in Washington don’t know what they’re doing. They just dither all day.” The short man spat on the ground again. He looked at all the bottles with distaste. The big man picked up three small blue ones and handed the girl a dollar.

“You are wasting your money.”

“It helps the wife’s headaches.” He tucked the bottles in the pocket of his overalls. The rumbling of a wagon sounded on the main thoroughfare. Both men turned. Two brown horses pulled a claptrap wagon right through the festivities. Children and chickens scampered out of the way.

“Slow down! You’re making dust!” shouted a snake-oil salesman. Neither man noticed any of this. They stood open-mouthed, staring at the gaunt young man sitting on the passenger side.

“Good Lord, it’s Caleb.” The short man threw his hat in the air. The big man opened and closed his mouth, but made no sound. The wagon stopped in front of the two men. Dust covered Caleb’s pale face and blue jacket.

“Hello, Father. I’m back home, at least most of me.” He patted the bandaged stump of his right leg.

“Better to have part of you home than none at all.” The big man reached for his son’s hand.

**********************************************

IMG_0588Two old men leaned against an antique tractor. The lights from the midway brightened the purple twilight. Smoke and noise rose from the tractor pull on the other side of the fairgrounds.

“Not going to rain tonight, is it?” The short one adjusted his seed corn cap. His taller companion nodded.

“No, I reckon not. We got a little shower three days ago, about two-tenths.”

“That’s more than we got. Dave said he got almost half an inch.” They watched two men try to start an antique tractor.

“Did they get 150 tractors here for the 150th fair?” The big one tapped a tire with his foot.

“I think they did.” The short one pointed to an old John Deere. “My dad had one like that when I was a boy.” They walked over to look at it. “I think I got it stuck at least twenty times.” The big man’s cell phone rang. He managed to dig it from his pocket before it went to voicemail.

“All right, I will be right there.”

“Who was that?” The short man inspected the tractor carefully.

“My granddaughter. She got a blue ribbon on her 4-H project. She wanted me to see it.” The two men walked past the midway. The smell of funnel cakes wafted over them.

“What did she do?”

“She found some old blue bottles in the barn. She’s pretty handy at making art out of stuff like that. Beats all you ever saw.”

“Like beer bottles?”

“No, I don’t know what they are. Some kind of old medicine bottles or something.” The two old friends nodded hello to another man.

“You heard from Justin?” The shorter one adjusted his hat again.

“Not yet this week. He’s still in the hospital in Maryland.” They stopped to let a rowdy group of teenagers walk past.

“Those idiots in Washington. They couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with the instructions on the heel. They don’t know what they’re doing, and boys like Justin pay the price.” He spat on the ground. The big man said nothing.

The smell of flowers rushed out the door of the Crafts Exhibition building. They squinted against the light as they walked into the fragrant room. The excited talking ended immediately. Both men stopped and stared. A tall young man stood before them in army fatigues. His mother stood on one side, grinning. His wife stood on the other. The big man’s granddaughter jumped up and down. Everyone else gathered around, breathless with delight.

“Justin, you’re home?” The big man spoke at last.

“Hello, Dad. Surprise.” The soldier grinned.

“How’s the leg?

The soldier looked down. “This one is temporary. They are still fitting the permanent one. It got me home, though.”

“Yes, yes it did.” The big man grabbed his son’s hand.

If you liked this story you can also check out Finbar’s Fiddle on Amazon.

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Where’s my Participation Trophy?

Posted on August 27, 2013 by silaschampion

I’ve never had good luck in contests. I ran track in high school. I never did better than last place. I played basketball as well, but we weren’t very good. I learned early on that athletics would never be my path to success. In fact, I don’t remember ever winning any big contest.

I have children now and everyone gets at least a participation trophy. “Hey you showed up, way to go. Here’s a trophy.” When I was young you got a pat on the back and, “Maybe next time, sport.”

awards,gold cups,persons,prizes,special occasions,trophies,winners,winnings

I recently entered  some writing contests. Both of these contest required you to submit the first 250 words of a finished, unpublished manuscript. These submission were read by other writers and even literary agents.  No, I didn’t win, I didn’t even get a participation trophy.

I did get good feedback from other readers about the manuscript. At times it was frustrating because the advice would contradict. Sometimes I wanted to tell them that if they could read more of the book it would make sense.  I did notice some themes in the feedback though, and this helped me make changes.

I am grateful to the people who organized and participated in these contests. I’m sure it was a lot of work. While I didn’t win, or even get a participation trophy, I did meet a lot of good people and get good feedback. That is better than any trophy anyway.

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